


Catharsis

by Fluterbev



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluterbev/pseuds/Fluterbev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the defeat of the night terrors, Blair struggles with the residual effect of terrors of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet set in my TS alternative universe, The Night Terrors, and won't make much sense unless you have read the rest of the story. It is set after the main story arc, in the aftermath of the demise of the night terrors.

“A delegation from the Northern Barony has arrived, my lord.”

Pausing in his perusal of the most recent census from the south of the Coastal Barony, Stephen’s heart jumped a little in anticipation. Hoping against hope that it might be his brother, he asked, “Who is it?”

“The Lord Warden, and a small retinue,” the household guard told him.

Not James then, Stephen noted, but his brother’s consort and guide. Only slightly disappointed (because although he often longed to see his brother again, he was truly pleased that Blair was here) he directed, “Please see Lord Blair comfortably settled. I will ensure my Lord Baron is aware, and will meet the Lord Warden in the great hall presently.”

Blair was not the only Lord Warden in the family, as Steven had recently taken on that very role himself here in the Coastal Barony. The title truly belonged to Steven’s wife Beatrice, but she was currently nursing their newborn (who had come into the world only five days ago) and had therefore delegated her titular duties to her husband for the duration. Having acted as Seneschal to the Baron himself these many years it was a role Steven had slipped into with no small amount of skill, despite the many issues that still plagued the demesne following the demise of the night terrors.

It was to Steven’s very great joy that their infant son had been born into a world free of night terrors, thanks in large part to the actions of the very man who had just arrived. Such a debt, Steven judged, could never be fully repaid, and therefore Blair would be accorded every comfort during his stay. Steven’s undivided attention, which he would also freely give, was part of no such obligation: he simply enjoyed Blair’s company.

Steven took some time to speak to Baron Delacroix in his bedchamber (whose recently declining health had seen him retire from active administration of the barony in favour of Beatrice) to apprise him of the arrival of their visitor. Another brief trip was made to his wife in their private rooms, still exhausted from her difficult labour. After ensuring both she and their youngest child were comfortable and well attended, Steven went down to greet their visitor.

Blair rose from his seat at the long table that ran the length of the hall as Steven entered, a huge smile on his face. “Steven!” he said, holding open his arms in welcome.

Without hesitation Steven met him in an embrace. “It’s good to see you,” he told Blair sincerely, pounding him heartily on the back. They pulled apart after a moment, Steven holding the other man at arm’s length, so he could take a good look at his guest.

“It’s good to see you too,” Blair said warmly, his youthful features alight with happiness as he gazed back at Steven, eyes bright with health. Blair was not a tall man, being at least half a head smaller than Steven and slight of build to boot, yet the stature he had earned through his actions meant that he towered large in the regard of every man, woman and child within the five baronies .

“You look well,” Steven observed, remembering only too well the awful circumstances by which they had first met, Blair having narrowly escaped from being burned alive, and suffering greatly at that time from the after-effects of the smoke. “Very well indeed,” Steven reiterated, pleased that Blair was here. “I hope this means James is being good to you.”

Blair laughed a little, looking abashed. “He’s always good to me,” he said. “He sends his love, and his regret that he couldn’t come with me.”

Motioning Blair to take a seat, Steven poured them each a cup of honeyed wine as Blair sat down. As he passed a goblet to Blair he asked, “So, what brings you here so unexpectedly? I hope the news you have brought is not too dire.”

Blair took the goblet and raised it in a wordless toast before taking a sip, and sitting more comfortably in his chair. “Believe it or not,” he said, “this is entirely a social visit. Of course, there is news I can give you, because it is a while since you and I last spoke. But I like to believe that the days when our baronies were only able to connect at times of great import are over.”

It had certainly been the case that travel between the Northern Barony and the Coastal Barony had long been arduous, due to large swathes of uninhabited land to the south of the Capital in which shelter was scarce. In the days of the night terrors, that had made the inevitable nights spent out camping in the open hazardous in the extreme. Now, of course, the dire threat posed by the dark hours no longer existed.

It was yet another reminder of how much times had changed for the better. “Then I’m very glad,” Steven acknowledged, raising his own goblet in tribute, “that you are here. To more frequent contact, and a diminished distance between us,” he toasted.

“I’ll gladly drink to that,” Blair agreed, raising his own goblet in turn.

***

Blair and his retinue retired soon afterward, tired out from their long journey, Blair taking supper privately in his room. The next morning, as Steven sat in Council, he learned from a man at arms that Blair had headed out to the nearby beach; one of the jewels in the crown of the picturesque Coastal Barony. Steven was kept busy throughout the day by baronial business, so it was not until the early evening meal, therefore, that he had occasion to meet up once more with his visitor.

In view of the informal nature of Blair’s trip, Steven arranged for them to take dinner in his family chambers rather than in the great hall. Baron Delacroix was too unwell to join them, but Steven’s older children were there, and also Beatrice for a while before she headed off with their sleeping infant to (hopefully) get some rest. Steven watched her go with a weary eye; just as he had when their other children were born, he’d been eschewing the custom for married men to make themselves scarce while their wives were nursing, and had stubbornly remained in their marriage bed the past few nights so he could take a turn at tending the babe in the dead of night. The lack of sleep was definitely beginning to tell on both of them.

Despite Steven and Beatrice’s fatigue, conversation during the meal had been light-hearted, a comfortable sharing of news and good humour. Soon after the dessert course Steven’s older children took their leave, leaving the two men alone to share a flask of good brandy that Blair had brought along with him from the north.

Blair looked relaxed and ruddy cheeked from exposure to the sun and the sea breeze during his day at liberty exploring the beach. Steven tried to imagine what it would be like, to take a whole day for his own pleasure like that. For a Lord Warden - even a Lord Warden by proxy, such as himself - to be permitted such a gift was rare indeed. It puzzled Steven somewhat, that Blair had found the time to travel like this; certainly, during dinner, Blair had confirmed exactly what Steven assumed: that life in the Northern Barony, just like here, was endlessly demanding , with both Blair and James dealing constantly with not only the day-to-day business of administration of the demesne, but also the inevitable residue of the difficult times past.

It all made Steven curious as to the true reason for Blair’s visit. He was a man who took his duties extremely seriously, as Steven well-knew. What exactly was it that had inspired him to take a break from those duties – as well as his paired sentinel - at this precise time?

It was during a pause in their banter, when the fire had died to a rosy glow and a pleasant buzz from the brandy had infused him with a sense of contented relaxation, that Steven decided to satisfy his curiosity. “You said that James is always good to you, and that all is well between you. Why, then, do I have the sense that something troubles you nevertheless, and that your trip here is not just the simple vacation it seems?”

Blair stared down into his brandy glass, a wry smile quirking his lips. “Are you sure you’re not a sentinel like your brother, to make such an observation?” he quipped, glancing Steven’s way a little abashedly.

“We are friends, are we not?” Steven answered. “I like to think that you and I have a rapport, so to speak. That we know each other a little better than passing strangers. That we might sometimes look upon each other and understand a little of each other’s troubles, and maybe ease them somewhat, as you have certainly done for me.”

Blair nodded, his smile morphing to seriousness. “I value your friendship very much,” he said. “I suppose that is why I came here, to see you in particular.” Blair was silent a while, and Steven held his peace, waiting for Blair to find the words. He judged his peace well-held when Blair eventually confessed, “There are things about the bad times, things I habitually keep to myself, that have been troubling me overmuch of late. I confess that I would wish... I would hope for a friend to listen, without judgement, that perhaps I might at last let them go.”

Steven inclined his head. “I am happy to help any way I can, of course,” he said. “But I am curious; what of James? Does he not share your burden in all things?”

“It’s... it’s not something I feel able to talk to James about,” Blair admitted.

“But, your deep link?” Steven pressed. “Can he not sense what is amiss?” He had always assumed there were no secrets between Blair and James. As a true pairing they had forged a profound connection which, as he understood it, meant they were constantly aware of each other’s thoughts and feelings, even during times spent apart.

“We can’t see into each other’s minds, Steven,” Blair answered. “Sometimes we can communicate in images, but it takes an effort of will to do so. For the most part, our deep link simply allows us to sense each other’s emotions when they are particularly strong. All James knows, is that sometimes matters weigh on me. He does not know the substance of those matters.”

“And so you are here,” Steven declared. “Did James not fret that you wished to talk to me, but not him?”

“I didn’t exactly put it in those terms,” Blair admitted, a smile once more quirking at his lips. “I told him I wished to take time out to visit friends and family I had not seen for a while. First I went to visit my aunt, then travelled to the Capital to visit a master I am friends with at the Academy. It made sense, upon leaving there, to turn south and come here as well before heading home.”

“And James does not mind?” The notion that he might somehow be betraying his brother, by listening to Blair talk frankly about whatever problem had come between them, plagued Stephen all of a sudden.

Blair chuckled a little, in response, perhaps perceiving his momentary discomfort. “I don’t need his permission, Steven! I am my own man. I am sworn to the barony, of course, and I love James dearly, but I am free to roam where I please, should my duties allow it. James knows I will return, when I am ready. And besides,” Blair indicated the door that led to Steven and Beatrice’s bedchamber, “he will be pleased when I bring him news of your growing family. Have you decided what to call your son?”

Steven grinned, at that. “Beatrice wants to call him ‘Blair’,” he said.

At that, Blair groaned heartily. It had recently become the fashion throughout the Five Baronies to name newly-born boys after the man who had delivered the land from the night terrors, which seemed to sit exactly as well with Blair as Steven had guessed it might. “Please, tell me that’s not true,” Blair begged, looking pained.

Steven shrugged. “What can I say? You will insist on being the hero every parent wishes their sons to emulate.” Then taking pity, he admitted, “Be at peace, Blair, we wouldn’t do that to you. Actually, we’re going to call him James. Now that the rift between my brother and myself has healed, I think it fitting that I honour my own birth family at last, by naming my boy after him.”

The unspoken acknowledgment there, of course, was that Steven had no intention of honouring his father’s name in such a way, given that William Ellison had so ruthlessly banished Steven into exile so many years ago. Some wounds remained forever, and would never heal.

Blair nodded, his expression full of understanding. “It is fitting indeed,” he said. “James will be pleased.”

At that very moment, Baby James loudly made his presence known in the adjoining bedchamber. Recalling Beatrice’s exhausted face during their meal, and understanding how desperately she needed sleep and that, being still awake, he had little excuse not to take the first shift, Steven stood. “I must see to my little one,” he said. “I will not be sitting in council tomorrow, so we can meet up during the day, I hope?”

“I would be glad to,” Blair agreed, before taking his leave.

***

The following morning, during the time Steven spent in Blair’s congenial company, he forgot for a while that Blair had expressed a wish to confide in him. It was only as they walked out together in the bright sunshine during the afternoon, on a companionable stroll towards the seashore, that Blair raised the matter again. “I’ve often wondered,” he confessed, “What it was like to be deceived by the night terrors.” Steven winced a little, and saw Blair glance his way. “I’m sorry,” Blair continued. “I don’t mean to bring back bad memories. It’s just that I’ll never know what it was like. Not first-hand, anyway.”

Steven shrugged. He didn’t like to think about it, that much was true. The guilt he carried for the things he had done under their influence never went away, although for the most part he buried it deep. It was cold comfort to know that he was not alone, in that regard.

But Blair was, of course alone, as only a tiny minority of people had escaped the thrall of the creatures entirely. Even James had been deceived, at first, to such an extent that he had treated Blair shamefully. “Has no one else spoken of it?” Steven asked, hoping to avoid having to reflect once more upon such a terrible time.

Blair nodded. “Some have. My aunt tried to explain it to me, once. But for the most part, people don’t talk about it. I... I understand, of course. That they don’t want to.” He glanced at Steven again. “Neither do you,” he observed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I don’t wish to cause you pain.”

“It’s all right,” Steven said, although really, it wasn’t. For most people once afflicted by the night terrors , particularly those, like Steven, who had been compelled to harm others at the behest of the creatures, denial was a great coping strategy. It was either that or give into shame and self-disgust, as so many poor souls already had by resorting to suicide. Steven had no intention of abandoning his own family in that way, but he definitely struggled at times to accommodate his remorse.

“It was like living in a dream,” Steven said presently, with some considerable reluctance but desiring to give his friend what he had asked for, nevertheless. “A nightmare, one I could not wake from. It seems a lot like that now, looking back. I loved them completely. They were the source of all goodness in the world, and non-believers were the source of all evil.” Guilt, so constant a companion, rose once more to the surface. “I will forever be ashamed of what I did in their name.”

“It was not your fault,” Blair assured him.

“I seem to remember you giving me the same counsel a while back,” Steven noted wryly. “But no matter how you may rationalise it, I find it difficult not to believe myself responsible. All I can do is strive to live my life as well as I can, and make amends to the families of those harmed by my misdeeds.” Steven had done his best to make recompense to families of those executed in the heretic purges, but it had not always been welcomed. Although the ultimate deed had been carried out at Steven’s order, the fate of those executed for heresy was a guilt Steven did not carry alone as, in almost every case, the ‘heretics’ had been unmasked by their own loved ones. Those who shared the burden of guilt were generally even less inclined than Steven toward self-forgiveness, let alone accepting of any material comfort.

They had reached the beach, the metalled road giving way to soft, shifting sand beneath their shoes. They halted, and Blair turned mournful eyes toward the sea, his irises reflecting the deep blue of the ocean. “I don’t know if this will help,” he said, “but when James was... afflicted, it was as though he was a different person. He was not the true James; not the man you and I know. I think back on him then, and remember a stranger. “

“And that stranger,” Steven ventured, intuiting that they had somehow, by roundabout means, reached the core of Blair’s disquiet, “you are furious with him still?”

Blair looked at him in astonishment. “Have you inherited guide traits, Steven? Because I’ve taken great pains to keep my feelings about that time hidden, even from James.” He sighed. “I guess I should have expected to let something slip. Lack of autonomic control is the reason I failed my Mastery, after all.”

Steven shrugged. “I assure you, you have kept it very well hidden,” he said. “It’s just that, putting myself in your place, I would be angry too. I’ve often marvelled at how you forgave him so easily. I’ve also wondered how you have managed to be so forgiving of me, considering what I put you through.”

“It’s been easy not to blame you for anything,” Blair said reassuringly. “I’ve only ever known you as you are now; I didn’t see you when Brackett took me prisoner, and only got to know you after you had recovered your memories. There was no before and after, in your case; there has only ever been Steven, my friend.”

By unspoken agreement they began walking again, the soft sand underfoot lending a lurching gate to their steps until they reached the harder-packed sand further out. There they progressed in silence along the beach, the raucous cry of seagulls wheeling over the water yet more evidence of how the world had changed, the large birds existing in proliferation now that the night terrors had gone for good.

Presently, Blair spoke again. “I have worked hard to separate it all out in my mind. There is James, who is blameless, and there is the stranger, influenced by the night terrors, who wore his face. James is a victim of the night terrors, every bit as much as I am. He requires no blame from me; he is far too adept at blaming himself. It is impossible to be angry with him.”

“And yet, you are angry,” Steven noted.

“With the stranger, yes,” Blair agreed. “Angry, hurt, frustrated, scared. I feel sometimes as though I will burst with it.” His voice broke a little. “And the one person I would wish to confide in, to seek comfort from, I cannot. Because unlike me, James cannot separate the stranger from himself."

“I think you underestimate his resilience,” Steven said. “It is not an unjust thing, for those of us who did the night terrors’ bidding, to face the ire of those we have harmed, no matter how misguided we were.” Thrust back once more into his own bad memories, Steven added, “I have certainly done so, Blair, and will no doubt do so again. Yet I have survived, and life continues. I have simply vowed to live my life with more compassion and understanding than I did before.”

“You’re a good man,” Blair said. “A strong man. It does not surprise me that you have weathered the storm in this way.”

“And James? Is he not just as strong?”

“The difference,” Blair said, “is that the person he hurt, at the night terrors’ bidding, is _me_. We’re too closely bound up with each other, and his pain is my pain. I cannot allow him to be hurt further; he carries more than enough guilt and pain as it is.” Blair looked at Steven miserably. “No matter how much you both deny it, the blame is not yours, and is not his; the blame sits squarely with the night terrors. But there are times I would truly wish,” he choked a little, “that the stranger were, in fact, a real, distinct person, so that now I have my freedom and my health, I could show him _exactly_ what I thought of being drugged, then chained up in the dark and left to die.”

“Then it is good you came to me,” Steven said. Giving into impulse, he reached out to draw his friend into a hug. “For I will listen, and I will not judge your anger or be hurt by it.”

Blair was breathing fast, like a man who had run many miles; a marathon of rage and pain. He held tight to Steven for a few moments until he mastered himself, and Steven released him as he finally stepped back. Blair’s eyes were watery and bright, but the sharp edge of pain within had dulled, evident in the shy smile hovering on his lips. “Then I shall speak of it to you, if you do not mind. And thereafter I will let it go. Because I do not wish to carry this burden alone any longer.”

Nodding his assent Steven took Blair by the arm. Then, together, they continued along the beach, Blair unburdening himself as they went.

***

Blair and his retinue left for home two days later. He bade farewell to them all sincerely, and went in high spirits, looking forward to going home and being reunited with his beloved James.

Holding his newborn infant in his arms, surrounded by his own loving family, Steven watched him go; glad to have given just a little to the man they owed everything.

 

The End


End file.
